


Unexpected Elucidation

by LeeBlack



Series: Wolves at Your Door [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conversations, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24418324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBlack/pseuds/LeeBlack
Summary: “You have captured Peter’s interest, and knowing him as I do, that has in turn piqued mine. I find myself honestly curious about you, Stiles,” Deucalion said. “And if you are willing to share, I would like to learn more about you.”“So, tit for tat information exchange?”He nodded. “Something like that, though on an amicable sort of level rather than purely transactional,” he said.“And if you don’t like what I have to say?” Stiles asked.Deucalion shrugged. “Then we cease our conversation. I did not approach you this afternoon with an ulterior motive,” he said. “It was purely in the interest of learning more about the young man who has so captivated my Peter.”
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Wolves at Your Door [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720972
Comments: 55
Kudos: 1009





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles scowled down at his coffee, doing his absolute best to ignore his phone - and the most recent developments that had been relayed through the device.

Scott had continued ignoring his text messages, but had apparently _not_ given up on his insistence that he and Allison were meant to be. Had apparently taken it to the point that Chris had gone to Melissa, in the guise of parental concern, to tell her that he was taking Allison out of state for the rest of the summer and while he was gone, he would greatly appreciate if Melissa discussed boundaries with him. He’d caught Scott on the Argent roof one afternoon and, rather than going straight for the lethal option, had decided to inform Melissa that if Scott’s behavior continued when they returned, he’d have no choice but to resort to legal options.

Which had led to Melissa calling Stiles, asking what the hell was going on with Scott.

Stiles did his best to stay vague, not wanting to get his best friend into any serious trouble.

It hadn’t worked. One mention that Scott fancied himself in love with Allison and she’d decided that she was going to take her son to her parents in Phoenix.

Which then had let to Scott sending him a barrage of angry texts, followed with the threat that he was blocking Stiles’ phone number.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Stiles had gotten a call from his father less than an hour later, asking what the hell he and Scott were up to that Argent had dropped by the station, asking about beginning the process of a restraining order against the two of them. He hadn’t had any answers that his father wanted to hear, and that conversation had ended with a terse dismissal from the Sheriff, and a comment that he was going to be working doubles for the foreseeable future and would be spending more time at the station than home.

Stiles huffed, glaring balefully at the phone. He wondered what Peter was up to, debated calling the man to see if there was something he could do to distract Stiles from a rapidly deteriorating mindset - though going by the previous phone calls, he’d no doubt figure out a way to mess that up as well.

No, better to sulk in the back corner of TeaTomes, hidden in the back corner by the nonfiction history and nursing the largest coffee the shop sold. The oversized armchair he was all but curled up in offered little of its usual comfort.

He couldn’t stay there forever, he knew, but he hadn’t wanted to go back to an empty house again. He glared again at his phone before turning it off, holding the power button down with a vicious sort of satisfaction.

“What could have offended you so drastically?”

The sudden question startled Stiles and he flinched away from the unexpected voice, only barely able to keep his coffee upright. “Holy _fuck_ ,” he wheezed, looking over at the intruder and immediately recognizing Deucalion. “What the hell is it with you people and sneaking up on me?” he asked. “Gonna give me a heart attack, I swear to-”

“Your heart is strong,” Deucalion said quietly.

“Uh huh.”

The werewolf just paused for a brief moment. “I don’t believe we were properly introduced,” he said.

“Deucalion Blackwood, alpha male type from Northern California,” Stiles said, erring toward generic to avoid any unnecessary attention. “Peter said you’re originally from Windsor, though.”

He nodded. “I see he’s kept you informed. Good.”

“How is that _good_? Dude, you’re theoretically here to judge whether we all live or die at the next full moon,” he said.

“That is my official reason for being here, yes, though I would much prefer a conversation to visiting violence upon you in a bookshop. May I sit?”

Stiles nodded, forgetting briefly that the man was blind. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “There’s a chair like three steps left of you. My left, not yours.”

“Much obliged,” Deucalion said, moving over to take a seat in the worn leather armchair. “And a table?” he asked, nodding toward the large cup in the hand not holding his cane.

“Side table. Right side.”

He nodded and set the cup on the table. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Now, I believe a proper introduction is in order. I, as you know, am Deucalion. You are?”

“Call me Stiles,” he said. “And what kind of conversation are we talking about, exactly? I mean, if you’re here just to see who’s going to pass your investigation, why bring me into it?”

“Because you are a member of the Hale Pack,” Deucalion said, apparently comfortable with talking about things directly. “I was always going to speak with you as part of my investigation, but your association with Peter has certainly piqued my interest. He is not the type to trust easily, and yet with you, he seemed quite comfortable.”

Stiles snorted. “He calls me pet and wants to nurture something in me. I’m not really sure what trust has to do with that.”

“He took you to Leslie’s shop.”

“So?”

“That is a store that one must earn admittance to,” Deucalion said. “It speaks a great deal of his trust that he was willing to jeopardize his access to an incredible resource by bringing you with him.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, sitting back a bit. He hadn’t realized it was that big a deal.

“Oh indeed,” he said. “Now, I am honestly curious as to what had you simmering of rage in the back corner of such a quaint shop as this.”

Stiles was silent for a long moment. “Just a bad day getting progressively worse,” he said, hoping the man wouldn’t push. “Why’d you come in here anyway? I mean, no offense, but if you’re blind, what good is a bookshop to you? Eliot doesn’t stock anything in Braille, I don't think.”

Deucalion hummed. “Eliot?”

“Owns the store,” Stiles replied. “Also running counter at the cafe today, so he’s the one who would have given you your coffee.”

“Tea, actually, but I appreciate the information,” he said. “Peter recommended this shop for their tea, on the merit that it’s ingredients are grown onsite.”

“You talked to Peter?”

Deucalion nodded. “As per tradition, he informed his Alpha that I was coming into the territory, and then passed on his Alpha’s acceptance of that fact. He was then quite accommodating in helping me find lodging for the duration of my stay, as well as the recommendation for this shop, of course.”

Stiles couldn’t hold back the snort at that.

“You disbelieve?”

“I don’t know which I believe less, Derek accepting you being here or Peter being accommodating.”

The werewolf was silent, lips pursing slightly. He shifted a bit in his chair, relaxing a bit - or putting up a decent enough imitation of it. “Peter and I share the sort of history that allows for a certain flavor of leniency between he and I,” he said. “And though it is improper, I tend to agree with your assessment of the young Alpha Hale.”

“How come?”

“I have only begun looking into things, but it appears the boy is cut from the same tarnished cloth as his mother,” he said. “But there will certainly be enough time for us to discuss official matters another day. Tell me about yourself. I understand you’re the son of this county’s Sheriff?” he asked mildly.

Stiles stiffened in his seat. “Did Peter accommodate that information for you?” The question came out harsher than he’d intended, and only after asking it did he think that it might not be the best idea to try and provoke a strange Alpha.

Fortunately, though, Deucalion didn’t seem to take any offense to the question. “He was rather tight-lipped about you. As protective as any wolf would be with their pet.”

“Yeah, we’re going to circle back to that right after you tell me how you knew who my dad was without us having been introduced.”

The man smiled slightly. “I assure you, the question was not intended as a threat, to either you or your father.”

Stiles shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You’re not really all that reassuring,” he said. “You’re not going to go after him, are you?”

“Does he have any knowledge of my kind?”

Stiles shook his head. “I haven’t told him anything,” he said.

“Clever way of answering that question,” he said. “Though it is an acceptable enough answer.”

Stiles wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to that, so chose to err on the side of caution, taking a large sip of his coffee in lieu of answering. When Deucalion said nothing, he sighed. “Look, my dad doesn’t know anything. If he did, I wouldn’t be associating with Peter at all, so your furry little secret is safe, as far as he’s concerned.”

That seemed to be an acceptable response. Deucalion nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “And about your association with Peter.”

“Like I said, he calls me pet and wants to nurture me.” He huffed, scrubbing a hand over his head. “As fucking creepy as it is, it’s kind of nice,” he said before freezing, not sure why he’d admitted that.

Deucalion smiled. “Yes, it can be quite comforting to be kept as a pet for the reassurances it can provide.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man. “You speaking from experience about that?”

He shook his head. “Purely from the perspective of a keeper,” he said.

Stiles scowled. “So then, your history with Peter?”

“He allowed me to keep him, for a short time,” Deucalion admitted easily. “And I greatly treasure that time, and its memories.”

Stiles was shocked silent at that, mind temporarily running out of his control as he thought about what all that could mean. “Peter doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to be kept.”

Deucalion hummed an acknowledgment. “All the more reason I treasure his allowances,” he said. “You never met him before his Pack was destroyed, did you?”

“Nope.”

“He was much more, shall we say, flexible, as a younger man,” he said with a smirk.

Stiles went bright red, choking at all the innuendo that accompanied that particular statement. “Sure.”

Deucalion laughed quietly. “It was not intended entirely in that nature, though there certainly was an element of sexuality to our relationship,” he said. “In my experience, when a wolf takes a pet, be they human or fellow wolf, it is meant entirely in goodwill.”

“I’m not sure I follow?” Stiles asked, intrigued.

He cocked his head to the side, silent for a moment. “I will frame this for you as best I can, but I have never been human, nor am I willing to divulge Peter’s time with me without his express permission,” he said.

“Wait, hang on,” Stiles said, holding up a hand. “Why are you willing to frame this for me at all?”

“You have captured Peter’s interest, and knowing him as I do, that has in turn piqued mine. I find myself honestly curious about you, Stiles,” he said. “And if you are willing to share, I would like to learn more about you.”

“So, tit for tat information exchange?”

He nodded. “Something like that, though on an amicable sort of level rather than purely transactional,” he said.

“And if you don’t like what I have to say?” Stiles asked.

Deucalion shrugged. “Then we cease our conversation. I did not approach you this afternoon with an ulterior motive,” he said. “It was purely in the interest of learning more about the young man who has so captivated my Peter.”

“He’s not yours,” Stiles bit out.

That pulled a sharp smile from the werewolf. “Not for quite some time, though I will always remain fond of him,” he said. “There is a lasting sort of bond between a wolf and their pet, as you will no doubt learn as you spend more time with Peter.”

“Yeah, about that.”

“Of course, my apologies,” Deucalion said. “As I mentioned, in my experience, when a wolf takes a pet, it is meant with good intentions. Caring for another, and in turn earning their trust, provides quite a sensation to a wolf. The bond that’s formed is similar to a Pack bond, though this relationship can exist outside the parameters of a Pack, as mine did with Peter.”

Stiles nodded, absently wondering if he should be taking notes as Deucalion spoke.

“It also provides a sense of stability for the two involved in the relationship,” he said. “In Peter’s case, he needed a sort of stability that could not be found within his own Pack, so he allowed me the privilege of taking care of him for a time. I provided him haven when he needed shelter, an unbiased ear when he needed to speak, and, yes, for our relationship, I provided sexual release upon our mutual agreement.”

“Awful sterile way of saying you two fucked,” Stiles muttered under his breath.

Deucalion snorted. “And here I was trying to maintain a sense of propriety so as not to seem uncouth,” he said. “Yes, he allowed me to mount him and I him. For our time together, I truly loved Peter,” he said.

Stiles frowned, brow furrowing in confusion. “Then why break it off with him?”

“Because he asked.”

“Just like that?” he asked

“Just like that,” Deucalion affirmed. “No wolf has want of a nonconsenting partner. The scent of revulsion and disgust would smother them, spoiling any measure of happiness they may have had with their pet. Or their keeper.” He took a sip of his tea. “If you were to tell Peter that you no longer wanted to be his, he would respect that without question.”

“But you said you loved Peter.”

Deucalion nodded. “And I still care for him a great deal. I would not have taken him as a pet if I did not care about him, and my affections did not expire when he requested our relationship terminated,” he said, sounding almost detached. “And in the years since that time, my affections remained constant.”

“So, what, you’re harboring a secret love for the wolf keeping me?”

Deucalion smiled again. “Not secret, no. And I would not define it as love, not anymore. Rather, a deep-seated respect. He has experienced a great deal more than I think he should have, and to see him still standing, and of a mind to take a pet of his own, is comforting, to say the least.”

“And you don’t want to bone him anymore?”

“While I certainly would not be opposed to bedding him again, it would be improper of me to even insinuate that request at this time.”

Stiles paused. “Why, cause he’s taken a pet of his own?”

“Hardly. I am a hedonistic sort of wolf. If I had his consent, and the situation were not as it is, I would not hesitate to invite him to my bed,” he said. “Unfortunately, as it stands, my purpose here is to investigate your Pack on behalf of the Council. It would be improper to risk the integrity of my time here by attempting to rekindle an old flame.”

He frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “What do you mean by that?”

Deucalion paused for a moment, looking almost hesitant. “Were I to approach Peter as his former keeper and allow that relationship to spark again, it would taint any recommendation I provide the Council,” he said. “And in doing so, I would not only risk their wrath being visited upon both of our Packs. It is fair neither to Peter nor my Pack to invite that sort of threat.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. “That makes sense.”

“Indeed,” Deucalion said, nodding slightly. He took another sip of his tea. “Of course, that is without taking into consideration his feelings for you.”

Stiles choked on air. “What makes you think he’s got feelings for me?”

“He calls you pet, Stiles. He took you to a rather exclusive witch’s shop, and I would wager you have been inside his den, yes?”

Stiles nodded. “A few times, yeah.”

“Did he treat you well while you were under his roof?”

Stiles nodded again. “He feeds me and lets me read some of his books,” he said.

Deucalion smiled at that. “And do you truly doubt he cares for you? Peter treasures his knowledge. During our time together, I was permitted to look at his books, but he never granted permission for me to read any of them.”

“Oh.”

“A pet is to be cherished, Stiles. I provided Peter several things during our time together that I would not grant to anyone else on this planet, and if he’s sharing his library with you, he is providing treasured things to you,” he said.

That shocked Stiles silent for a long few moments. “So what does that mean for me?” he asked finally.

Deucalion frowned. “I’m not quite sure I understand?”

Stiles shrugged. “You said you and Peter spent time together and talked and fucked. Does that mean that I’m gonna be expected to bend over for him because he’s letting me look at his books?”

“Certainly not,” Deucalion said, sounding almost offended. “This sort of relationship is built on mutual trust, and nothing in it can be forced, else both parties will suffer. If you initiate something of a sexual nature, I would not expect you to be rejected, but he will not force anything of the sort from you.” He paused for a moment. “I did not take Peter as a pet with the expectation of any sort of reciprocation. I merely saw a young wolf who I sought to nurture. He had a great deal of potential and I was honored to be able to see that potential come to fruition. It was never my intention to gain his trust solely to bed him.”

Stiles snorted, unable to completely stifle the blush. “You and he have the same creepy way of describing things,” he muttered.

Deucalion leaned forward a bit. “Are you not enjoying the attention of your wolf? That he goes out of his way to provide something you may not otherwise experience? Something that only he can provide? Access to his library, for instance.”

Stiles went even redder, ducking his head.

“To be a keeper is an exquisite sort of honor, Stiles. Had he wanted to bed you, he would not have gone to extremes to make you feel valued.”

“How’d you-”

“You carry a certain scent about yourself.”

“What, you mean I smell?” Stiles asked, hunching in on himself, suddenly self-conscious.

Deucalion chuckled. “Nothing like that. Your scent itself is rather exquisite-”

“Creepy,” Stiles muttered. “Are all wolves so goddamn creepy?”

Deucalion ignored him. “You carry the faint scent of Peter, as well as a certain flavor that I can only describe as kept.”

“Kept?”

He nodded. “It smells of night air and trees in autumn,” he said. “Peter carried a similar scent when he was mine, and I have come across it the few other times I have encountered a pet and their keeper,” he said. “It’s rather pleasant, to be honest.”

Stiles decided to hide behind his coffee, not entirely sure what to say in response to that.

“It is a privilege to be kept as a pet, and it is an honor to be trusted as a keeper,” he said. “But you have no obligation to be kept if it is not what you wish. Consent, above all, is critical to these sorts of relationships, and Peter, to my experience, has always been one to respect a hard boundary.”

“A hard boundary?”

“He will test, and push,” Deucalion said with a knowing smile. “Complacence is not in his nature. But if he is told ‘no’, he will respect that.”

Stiles paused, mind drifting back to that night in the parking garage. Peter had called him out as lying, but he hadn’t forced the Bite. “Yeah,” he said. He looked over at Deucalion, who was looking at him with far too much accuracy for the man to be entirely blind. “I guess that’s true.”

“Should you continue with Peter, Stiles, I honestly wish you nothing but happiness.”

Stiles nodded.

A sudden buzzing started the both of them.

Stiles glanced down at his phone before remembering he’d turned it off. Looking at it, though, reminded him of the landslide of bullshit he’d dealt with earlier, pulling a scowl.

Deucalion pulled his own cellphone from the inner pocket of his blazer. He answered it, speaking with whoever it was in a language that Stiles didn’t understand. The conversation was brief, though, not leaving him enough time to feel awkward about listening to something he didn’t understand. When he ended the call and replaced his phone, Deucalion returned his focus to Stiles. “It appears my free time has reached an unfortunate end,” he said.

“Wait, you tracked me down to talk about all this on your free time?”

Deucalion nodded. “As I said, you piqued my interest,” he said, standing up. “As it is, I have a pending discussion with your Alpha.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, sinking back into himself.

“Come now, boy, have heart,” Deucalion said, offering Stiles his hand. "And if not heart, then faith that I find you all more interesting whilst alive."

The teenager hesitated for just a few seconds. He shoved his phone in his pocket and, with one hand on his coffee, took the proffered hand. “What is this?”

“Surely a young man of your caliber would escort a blind man to his car.”

Stiles snorted, biting back a smartass quip before the latter half of Deucalion’s statement sank in. “Wait, you’re blind. How are you driving?”

Deucalion started toward the front of the shop, his natural strength practically pulling Stiles along with him. “I am a strong Alpha, Stiles. Surely you do not doubt my capabilities?” he asked, though his lips were twitching upward.

“Yeah, sure, you’re a big strong Alpha who don’t need no man, but you’re still _blind_ , dude,” Stiles snarked before he could think better of it.

“You are _delightful_ ,” he said with a toothier grin than was possible for a human.

Stiles shrugged, attempting to play it off as nonchalant but feeling his ears heat up tellingly.

“I’ve brought a trusted member of my Pack with me to serve as both driver and escort. I am, after all, an Alpha on territory claimed by another,” Deucalion said, leaning closer to all but whisper the words into Stiles’ ear. “It would be irresponsible for me to have come here alone.”

“Sure,” Stiles said, unable to stop the blush from returning.

“I would introduce you, but Ennis is rather particular about my safety. Perhaps another time, if the Council finds in favor of granting your Pack clemency.”

Stiles just looked over at the man, not sure how to respond to that.

As soon as they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the shop, Deucalion loosened his hold on Stiles’ hand but did not let him go. “It truly was a pleasure to speak with you, Stiles,” he said, pulling Stiles’ hand up and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I look forward to speaking with you again, and I hope I have shed some light on your relationship with Peter, You are truly something to be treasured, young man.”

Stiles just stared at the man, too shocked to pull his hand back.

“Do give my regards to Peter, won’t you?”

“What makes you think I’m going to Peter?” Stiles asked.

Deucalion just smiled, and pressed another kiss to Stiles’ knuckles. “Have a pleasant day, Stiles. Until we meet again.”

And with that, he headed into the parking lot, getting into the same towncar as before.

Stiles watched as the car puled out of the parking lot, debating with himself where to go. Back home to an empty house, out to the Hale house to be ignored by Derek, over to the Reyes house, where Erica and Boyd had holed up in the basement and refused to speak to anyone. Or to Peter’s, where he wouldn’t be alone.

In the end, it was an easy choice, and he found himself in his Jeep, driving toward the arts district, almost before he realized it.

He drove past Peter’s house, parking his Jeep not far away in the visitor’s lot by the Preserve. If anyone saw his Jeep there, he could easily pass off the excuse that he’d gone for a trek in the woods to vent his frustrations.

Once he parked, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and ducked onto the sidewalk that led toward Peter’s house.

It didn’t take him long to get there.

He knocked on the door, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a sudden bout of nervousness.

It lasted until the door opened, revealing Peter in a pair of worn jeans and a green v-neck. His hair was ruffled, and he had what looked like a pillow seam worn in on the side of his face.

“You’re barefoot,” Stiles said. Somehow that was the strangest thing about the picture Peter presented. “’S weird that you’re barefoot.”

“I’m in my home,” he said, looking briefly downward before returning his gaze to Stiles’s eyes. “Is there something wrong with my being barefoot in my home?”

“No, it’s just weird,” Stiles said, trailing off as he stared at Peter’s feet. “They’re nice feet,” he said. “I don’t know why I was picturing you with paws instead.”

Peter snorted and stepped aside, gesturing for Stiles to come inside.

As he did so, he noticed Peter’s nostrils flare and quickly found himself backed against the wall, door shut and double-locked behind him.

“You smell of Blackwood. Are you hurt?”

Stiles was shocked silent at the blur of movement, for some reason hyperfocused on Peter’s feet.

“Stiles,” Peter barked, startling Stiles out of his stupor.

“Huh, what?” he asked, his gaze jerking up from Peter’s feet to his electric blue eyes.

“Are you hurt?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, not hurt. We just talked.”

“You just talked?” Peter asked disbelievingly.

Stiles nodded, coming back to himself. “I was at TeaTomes. They have good coffee and there’s a nice spot in the back corner, by the history section.”

Peter paused. “Did he corner you there?”

Stiles shook his head. “I was there first.”

That seemed to mollify Peter. “And he approached you, you’re sure?”

“Apparently in your accommodating him, you recommended the shop for it’s tea,” Stiles said.

Peter smirked. “I do have a soft spot for Eliot’s homegrown blackberry tea, and I know Duke has similar tastes.” He paused, smirk fading, and cocked his head at Stiles. “You are certain he did not harm you?”

Stiles nodded, “Honest. Didn’t even touch me til he had me walk him out of the shop,” he said. “Then it was hand-holding and he kissed my knuckles. Look, just how British is the dude?”

That startled a bark of laughter out of Peter and he took a step back, moving out of Stiles’ personal space. “Extremely. If he’d suspected you of noble blood, he likely would have bowed and addressed you as ‘your grace’. Or if he’d been feeling particularly mischievous,” he said. “He pulled that stunt on an Alpha out of Washington State once.”

“Back when you were his pet?” Stiles asked, almost hesitantly.

Peter’s gaze sharpened on him, the supernatural glow not fading. “He spoke about that?”

“Kind of. Nothing specific,” Stiles said. “He did kind of explain what it meant to be a wolf’s pet. A little bit,” he added.

“Is that so,” Peter murmured, taking another step back.

Stiles hesitated for a heartbeat, not entirely convinced he was making the right move, before stepping away from the wall. Not into Peter’s space, but enough that the move was deliberate. “Had me feeling a little more at ease about why you’re so creepy with me.”

Peter was silent.

Stiles hesitated again before stepping around Peter and heading toward the living room, growing more confident that the werewolf would follow him. “He told me that it’s meant to be a good thing, and that you’re not going to expect anything out of me.”

“Of course not, pet,” Peter said quietly. “I’ve told you countless times before -”

“You like me, yeah. I think it’s starting to finally sink in. Like, for real.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’ just to be obnoxious.

Peter was quiet for another brief pause. “And you sought me out after speaking with Duke about why I call you pet?”

He nodded. “Something like that, yeah.” He looked over his shoulder at Peter, surprised at the unexpectedly open look on the man’s face. “Dude, I get that I woke you up from a nap, but this whole lack of a creep factor is throwing me off here. Do I need to give you a minute to get back up to your usual Catch-A-Predator personality?”

That seemed to breathe some awareness back into the older man. He wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist, rubbing his nose along Stiles’ temple in a blatant scent-marking. “My apologies, pet. I will endeavor to discomfort you more often, if that’s your desire.”

Stiles leaned back into the embrace, closing his eyes and deliberately ignoring how tightly Peter held him. It wasn’t enough to constrict his breathing, and there weren’t any sharp points to suggest the claws had slipped their sheaths. He was willing to give Peter some leeway - and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him without him being in some sort of pain. The last time his dad had hugged him was after Gerard had caught him, and that embrace had been tempered some by the pain of his cracked ribs.

“Stiles?” Peter asked after a long moment, not loosening his hold on the teenager. “No quip to rebuff my advances? Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’ve had a shit morning,” he finally admitted. “Followed by a surprisingly enlightening conversation with an Alpha werewolf about how wolves like to keep their pets.”

“Do you want to talk about any of it?”

He thought about it for a moment. He had a feeling that, given Peter’s current mood, he’d get mostly-honest answers out of the werewolf. “No,” he said quietly, the force behind the statement surprising even him.

“No?” Peter asked.

“Not right now,” Stiles confirmed. “My best friend blocked my number, my dad doesn’t trust me, and I’m pretty sure Chris Argent is going to try and file some kind of restraining order against me, thereby making my dad trust me even _less_ , and Melissa’s not really happy that I let Scott get obsessed with Allison to the point that he might be violating _actual_ stalking laws. Like I can fucking control what Scott does,” he said, frustration seeping out of him seemingly out of his control. “I mean, I was barely able to help him when you Bit him and he still tried to kill me, so I really don’t know what she expected me to be able to do about Scott falling in love with some girl.” He huffed. “I don’t know. It’s just nice to have one person who doesn’t expect anything from me. Who just lets me exist.”

Peter tightened his hold on Stiles, pressing his nose to the crook of Stiles’s neck and pulling in a deep breath. “Let’s go to into the living room. I have every intention of going back to sleep for at least two more hours, and you can have full control of the remote while I’m out,” he said. “And later today, when I’m no longer exhausted to the point of near-collapse, I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Stiles hesitated for a moment. “I want wings.”

“I’m sure I can find something that will suffice.”

“And curly fries,” Stiles said, a grin twitching onto his face.

"Also within my capabilities, I’m sure.”

Stiles didn’t even bother hiding his amusement. “And a strawberry milkshake.”

“Greedy pet,” Peter commented absently, though he didn’t so much as loosen his hold on the younger man.

Stiles turned his head a bit to look at the older man out of the corner of his eyes. “Is that beyond your capabilities?”

Peter huffed. “Taking advantage of my exhaustion, pet?” he asked, a knowing glint in his eyes. “How very clever of you.”

“I could come up with something really outrageous.”

Peter snorted. “I doubt you would demand something truly outrageous. And before you ask it, I’m happy to cover all expenses required to bring your Jeep back up to something moderately safe to drive,” he said, offering Stiles a fanged grin. “After, of course, my nap.”

It was Stiles’ turn to snort. “You’re serious?”

“I crawled out of my own grave less than six months ago, pet. It will take several more weeks before I am back at my full strength, and that progress will only be delayed if my recuperation is to be interrupted by scrawny teenagers who talk too much.”

Stiles grinned. “You’re bitchy when you’re tired, you know?”

Peter sighed. “Are you going to let me return to my rest or not?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just the couch, right, Lex?”

He nodded, again running his nose along Stiles’s temple. “I will have you know that I am significantly more attractive than Lex Luthor, you unsophisticated ingrate,” he mumbled, any sting of insult lost with his clear exhaustion.

Stiles laughed outright and shuffled into the living room, hindered by the were-octopus who refused to so much as loosen his hold on Stiles.

Once the two of them were in the living room, Stiles all but collapsed into the couch, forcing Peter to move, otherwise be smothered between Stiles and the back of the couch.

“You are a cruel pet,” he grumbled into Stiles’s stomach as he moved around, getting himself comfortable. When Stiles opened his mouth to argue with him, he slapped the remote against Stiles’s chest with a force that almost knocked the breath out of him. “I would request nothing that ends in flames,” he said, voice muffled by the fabric of Stiles’s hoodie.

“You’re being surprisingly pliant,” Stiles commented, turning on the television.

“I am surprisingly exhausted,” Peter replied as he got comfortable. He rested his head on Stiles’s lap, burrowing his face in the fabric of Stiles’s hoodie. He shifted a bit before grumbling and pulling the cellphone out of Stiles’s pocket. “Do you need to charge your phone?”

“Not right now,” Stiles said, taking it after a brief pause. “Why?”

“I will be in a better mindset to ease your concerns when my eyelids feel less like lead, pet,” he said. “You will stay here until I wake?”

“Dude, you promised me food. Of course I’ll stick around.”

Peter hummed, eyes closing seemingly of their own accord. “You are too good for me, pet,” he mumbled, drifting off almost mid-sentence.

Stiles settled on a marathon of The Librarians before looking back down at Peter. The man looked younger asleep, somewhat more innocent. Without intending, Stiles’s mind drifted back to his conversation with Deucalion. There had to be at least a moderate measure of trust for Peter to be willing to fall asleep with him around.

It didn’t take long before Stiles got sucked into the episode - one of his favorites, with Bruce Campbell playing Santa. He shifted a bit, getting more comfortable on the couch.

Almost without thinking about it, the hand not holding the remote drifted down to Peter’s hair. He absently scratched at the man’s scalp, eliciting a happy rumble from the sleeping werewolf. “You’re such a creepy fucking marshmallow, dude.”

Peter let out another happy rumble. “Only for you, pet,” he mumbled, half-asleep. “No others deserve my kindness.”

“Whatever, creep.”

Peter rumbled, this one low enough that Stiles felt it in his bones.

The sudden flex of claws against his leg caught Stiles’s attention and he jumped slightly before forcing himself to hold still to avoid being nicked by the sharp points. “Hey! I thought you liked me, dude!”

“Mmm, I do.”

“Then what’s with the claws?”

“You are keeping me awake,” he said, rolling his head just enough to give Stiles an impressive one-eyed glare. “And I recall mentioning I’m exhausted and need to recoup my strength?”

Stiles nodded, focusing more on the claws than Peter’s words. “Vaguely, I guess?”

“Then would you mind terribly allowing me to get _back_ to that recuperating sleep?”

Stiles smirked, choosing instead to again scratch at Peter’s scalp.

The werewolf let out another, happier rumble. “Much more appreciated, pet,” he said, turning his head back into the fabric of Stiles’s hoodie. “Keep it up and I’m inclined to offer you a reward. I am willing to reciprocate kindness with you and you alone.”

“You know, for someone who’s so tired, you talk an awful lot,” Stiles commented, still petting Peter. When he got no response, he just turned his attention back onto the television.

As the Librarians attempted to trick Dulaque into granting their Christmas wishes, he felt himself relaxing. Somehow, the frustration from earlier in the day melting away into something that almost felt like contentment. He dropped his head back against the back of the couch, closing his eyes and listening to the episode.

“This is nice,” he said, voice barely audible even to himself.

Peter hummed. “This is Pack, pet.”

And that? That wasn’t so objectionable.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise second chapter~ 
> 
> In which naps are followed by a conversation that reveals several things, about both Peter and Stiles

Sometime later, Stiles startled awake to the sound of Ozzy Osbourne’s ‘Bark at the Moon’. He looked around the room, not immediately recognizing his surroundings. The sound of Flynn and Eve snarking at each other from the television and the weight against his leg had him relaxing a bit. Peter’s house.

“Do you always awaken so violently?” Peter asked, still sprawled out on the couch, his head in Stiles’ lap. He slowly sat up, stretching as he went and popping a truly impressive number of bones as he moved.

“Noise,” Stiles groaned, voice still thick with sleep. “Not my alarm. I turned my phone off before I came over,” he added.

“No, that would be my wayward nephew,” Peter said, cocking his head to the side. “My phone’s in the kitchen. Wait here a moment, pet.”

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes again. He wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, but he intended to bask in his current comfort for as long as possible. When Peter returned to the couch, answering as he sat, Stiles peeled open one eye to watch the older man.

Peter, for his part, put the call on speakerphone. “Hale speaking,” he said, with a fake smile. No doubt the enthusiasm, however falsified, would carry through the line.

“Peter. Your old fuckbuddy stopped by to discuss terms. Why weren’t you here?”

“The role I served in the Hale Pack was the Left Hand, nephew, and you have not given me permission to retake that role. It would have been improper for me to force my presence where my Alpha has not directed. And Alpha Blackwood is here as a representative of the High Council, to determine our fates,” he said, smile still rigidly in place. “I would hope you treated a visiting Alpha with the appropriate respect?”

Derek grunted.

Peter apparently took that as an affirmative, allowing the smile to fade slightly. “And how fare those fates, dear nephew?”

“Don’t call me that,” Derek snapped, the Alpha command reverberating through the phone. “You lost that right when you killed Laura.”

An odd expression flitted over Peter’s face before he pulled on a deliberately neutral mask. “How go your negotiations with Alpha Blackwood, then, Alpha Hale?”

Stiles opened both eyes, watching Peter with an expression somewhere between surprise and awe. He’d watched the shift in Peter’s expression, both impressed and mildly terrified that the man was able to adopt a cool, detached mask so quickly. He opened his mouth to say something, but Peter shook his head slightly, holding up a hand. Stiles frowned, not appreciating being silenced. He’d pester Peter with questions after the call.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Surely he will remain impartial until he has come to a final verdict,” Peter said. “Did he mention which of our Pack he wishes to speak with next?”

Derek was silent for another moment. “I’m to bring my Betas to my loft in three days. Isaac was here while he was, but he didn’t so much as look at him. Said he would address all Betas separately when it was appropriate to speak with them,” he said. “I thought we had until the full moon before he had to complete his investigation? Why’s he rushing through this?”

Peter bared his teeth at the phone. “The edicts of the Council only mandate the final verdict be delivered by the full moon. As has been well documented for generations, Alpha Hale.”

Derek growled, the sound coming through staticky over the connection. “Watch it, Peter. I slit your throat once. I’ll do it again, and the next time you have to come back, it’ll be much more painful than crawling out of a shallow hole,” he snapped. “Has he spoken to you yet?”

“Not regarding the state of our Pack. He did, of course, initiate contact with me, as I’ve previously relayed to you,” Peter said - not quite through gritted teeth, but it looked like a near thing.

“I want to know the second he reaches out to you for that conversation,”

This time, Peter was baring fangs at the phone. “As the Alpha commands,” he said coolly. “Do you have need of me to accompany the Betas and serve as witness for their conversation with Alpha Blackwood?”

“Like I trust you to bear honest witness.”

Peter was silent.

“He also wants to talk to Stilinski and McCall.”

Stiles stiffened at that, suddenly remembering the most recent development as far as Scott was concerned. He shot a glance at Peter before gesturing toward the kitchen.

Peter quirked an eyebrow at him but nodded. “Did he mention either by name?”

“Deucalion said he wanted to talk to the omega Bitten wolf and the human who traipses around after him,” Derek said.

Peter stood up, carrying the phone into the kitchen with him. He dropped it onto the island and watched as Stiles rooted around in the fridge for a bottle of Gatorade. “I don’t suppose you’d like me to reach out to either boy and alert them as to the situation?”

Derek paused for a moment, seeming to think things over. “I can get what I want from Stiles without trouble,” he said, and Peter shot an almost worried glare in Stiles’s direction. “And McCall and I need to sort a few things out as it is. Just stick to whatever hovel you’ve stolen and I’ll let you know if you’re needed.”

Peter rolled his neck a bit. “As you order, Alpha Hale,” he said.

Derek just grunted again and hung up.

“Well,” Peter said, staring down at his phone. “It always is a pleasure to speak to my darling verbose nephew.”

Stiles hesitated for a moment before ducking back into the fridge to pull out another Gatorade. This one, he held up toward Peter in a silent offering.

Peter nodded, taking the bottle and opening it up. “My apologies for disturbing your rest, pet. I hadn’t expected Derek to let me know what was happening.”

Stiles shrugged. Instead of going for the smartass comment, he decided to focus on more immediate matters. Hopefully he’d be able to get answers about what, exactly, Peter wanted from him as they ate. “Scott isn’t in Beacon Hills right now. He and Melissa aren’t coming back until school starts again in August,” he said, trying for a casual tone.

He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d succeeded, but the sharp stare he got from Peter told him the information hadn’t missed the man. “Out of town? Why”

Stiles watched Peter for a moment, briefly debating the potential ulterior motives Peter might have. “You’re not planning on hunting him down and dragging him back here, are you?”

Peter didn’t answer right away. “I don’t expect so, no. His mother has her house here, and unless she begins the process of selling that house, it can reasonably be expected that he will return to Beacon Hills. The timing, I admit, will be regarded with suspicion. Why did he leave?”

“Uh,” Stiles started.

“Pet, please. I will need your honesty if I am to be in a position to make a pardon for Scott.”

“Wait, what? I thought you hated him?”

Peter popped open the Gatorade bottle and took a long swig, draining almost half of the neon blue liquid from the bottle. “I am the one who Turned him. It will ultimately fall to me to vouch for your friend. The only thing the Council will recognize as having higher authority than a Pack Alpha is the Sire of a Bitten wolf,” he said. “As I was the one to give him the Bite, I will be expected to represent Scott should his presence be absent for any reason.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed out. He was silent for a moment, gaze drifting back toward the living room, where his phone laid on top of the coffee table. “I didn’t tell him about Deucalion coming to town, so I doubt he knows about it. He’s still not over Allison. I guess he’s not giving her space, or Chris is just pissed, but he threatened to get a restraining order filed on Scott.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Stiles shrugged. “I’m guessing Chris caught Scott on his roof again. That’s how he snuck in when he and Allison were still a thing, but I guess he’s still doing it? Anyway, Chris went to Melissa and said he was taking Allison out of town for the rest of the summer, and he expected Melissa to talk to Scott about proper boundaries. Said basically that if Scott pulls any more of this furry Edward Cullen routine, he’d go to the cops about it.”

Peter didn’t look impressed. He opened his mouth to ask a question before pausing. “How did you come by this knowledge?”

“Melissa called me this morning.”

“Oh?”

Stiles nodded. He glanced behind himself to make sure the counter was clear before hopping up to sit on the counter.“Mostly she was trying to figure out if I was helping Scott play the creep. He hasn’t talked to me since the whole, uh, everything went down,” he said, gesturing his hand vaguely. “I don’t know if she believed me, but she told me that I can be a good influence on Scott if I decide to do the right thing, whatever the hell that means.”

“Does she intend for you to babysit Scott?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe? He and I have been friends since they moved in town in sixth grade, and I’ve pulled him into a lot of the shit he’s gotten in trouble for, so I guess it’s not unreasonable for Melissa to think I might have had something to do with Scott’s latest bullshit.” He snorted. “Hell, I’m the reason he got Bit in the first place.”

Peter frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“The night you Bit him, I pulled him into the woods. I heard on the police scanner that there was a body in the woods and I pestered Scott into joining me to go find it. We almost got caught by my dad, so we split. I got caught and Scott got Bit, so it’s my fault he’s in this mess to begin with.”

Peter hummed, looking over at Stiles. “You can hardly blame yourself for a youthful curiosity.”

“Dude, Peter-”

“No, pet. Did you force Scott into the woods?”

Stiles hesitated for a moment. “Not exactly,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his head. “But I was a pain in the ass until he agreed to go with me.”

“But it was Scott’s decision to ultimately join you?”

“I guess.”

“And you can hardly hold yourself responsible for my actions. You didn’t know I was in the woods, or that I was reckless enough to Bite the first human I came across.”

Stiles shrugged noncommittally, fiddling with the lid of his Gatorade bottle and not looking at Peter. “But if I hadn’t-”

“Stiles, I was crazed enough that I would have Bit the first person I came across in the woods,” Peter said. “If it wasn’t your friend, it would have been someone else, and then, given everything else that’s happened, Scott could easily have been collateral damage. I am in no way excusing what I did; it was reprehensible and there is no way to entirely repent for the crime of Biting an unwilling person, but Scott is still alive.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Bite could very easily have killed him. Instead, he Turned. He’s adapted to his wolf, however reluctantly, and has welcomed its some of its strengths. Have you not seen that?”

Stiles finally looked back up at Peter. “I mean, he doesn’t have asthma anymore.”

“And he is reaping the benefits of increased strength and reflexes in his position on the lacrosse team, and I have little doubt he’s not using the enhanced senses.”

“That’s how he and Allison started. He told me he needed a pen, and as soon as she came into the classroom, he gave it to her. He said he heard her mention it in the hallway.”

Peter looked mildly pained at that but nodded. “So as much as he didn’t want the Bite, he’s made the best of it. You should not blame yourself for any part of it.”

“But-”

“Melissa was also caught up in the final dealings with the Kanima, as I recall. It’s not unexpected that she’s still adjusting to the knowledge of the supernatural,” he said.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It will be good for both of the McCalls to have some breathing room outside of Beacon Hills. It will allow them both time to process what’s happened and adjust to how things will be moving forward,” Peter said. “Scott is a werewolf. He will have to learn to rein inhuman behavior in to avoid being outed as such, and Melissa I’m sure is no stranger to having to deal with a hormonal teenage boy.”

Stiles huffed. “Then why’s she expecting me to deal with Scott’s furry bullshit?”

“Because I suspect she thinks you have some influence with him.”

He snorted. “Not right now, that’s for damn sure. Scott’s totally fixated on Allison, and even if he wasn’t, he and I wouldn’t exactly be on speaking terms since he was working with Gerard. He’d be giving me the silent treatment until I gave him an apology that he’ll accept as good enough.”

“Is his vision so limited?”

Stiles paused, glancing briefly down at his Gatorade bottle again. “Scott thinks he and Allison are meant to be, so there’s nothing that he won’t do for her. And he thinks he’s in the right, so there’s no convincing him otherwise,” he said. “Scott sees the world in black and white and Allison is the shining beacon of white in his otherwise dark and furry world, so he’s going to fixate on her until he finds something brighter and shinier. It’s mostly how he is, but I’m not ready to give up on him yet.”

“And you would truly keep your trust someone with such character?” Peter asked archly.

Stiles flinched at that question.

“Stiles?”

“It’s not really a matter of putting my trust in him as it is everything else. He was there when my mom died, and he helped with that.”

Peter cocked his head to the side. “But you’re not ready to make amends with him?”

“Not yet. Not after everything,” he said. “And right now, it’s a matter of what he sent me after his mom called me,” he said. “I’m not showing you any of it, because you’ve got enough reason to want to hunt him down and beat him as it is. It’s just, fuck. It sucks being reminded that I’m not a bright and shiny thing to him anymore. And he’s never been this mean about it, either.”

Peter hummed. “Was anything he said unforgivable?”

Stiles shook his head. “Not yet. He came close a few times, which is unusual for Scott, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“I did not ask if anything he said was out of your capabilities to handle, pet. You know your McCall better than I have any desire to, and I will defer to your experience. Was anything he said unforgivable?”

“Not yet.”

“If there ever comes a time as such an offense is delivered, I am happy to take it out of McCall’s hide on your behalf,” Peter said, resting a hip against the kitchen island and watching the younger man with an inscrutable look on his face. “You should not be expected to control your friend’s behavior, particularly not if he has reached a point that you can no longer ignore the threat he poses.”

Stiles’ brow furrowed. “What threat? Because he’s a werewolf with claws and fangs, and I’m me, with the only real weapon the power of smartass?”

“Because you and he had a friendship before the supernatural affected either of you. He’s in a position where he’s able to bring up your loyalties, and, depending on the audience, that can very easily put your life in jeopardy,” Peter said.

“Scott wouldn’t do that.”

“Like he wouldn’t use my nephew’s body without consent?” he asked mildly. “Blatantly undermining not only an Alpha, but forcing him to his knees for a purpose that would only benefit the man responsible for the death of Derek’s Pack, the man who trained the woman who subjected my nephew to statutory rape?”

Stiles flinched at that. Putting it like that, and, yeah. That wasn’t great. “Is that why Derek’s such an asshole to you? Cause you Bit Scott and Scott did that to him?”

Peter was silent for a long moment. “It may factor into things, but Derek’s issues with me have existed since Derek was a child,” he said. He offered Stiles a mirthless smile. “Of course, that he hasn’t adjusted to the heightened power of the Alpha rank, or adjusted to the sensation of a newly expanded Pack, isn’t helping. Young, untrained Alphas are often more aggressive than other wolves until they’re able to get more control over their power.”

Stiles’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Becoming an Alpha is much more than red eyes and the ability to turn wolves. It comes with a drive, an almost maddening instinct to protect one’s territory and the Pack, and it’s accompanied by the strength and power that facilitates that protection. Without any sort of training, or any stability to counter that drive, it can very easily drive one mad,” he said. “The closest human equivalent I can think of is if you woke up one morning with all the skills and training of an advanced fighter and a rabid urge to make sure you keep what’s yours.”

“Oh,” Stiles said. He didn’t entirely understand the concept, but he supposed it made sense, in an abstract sort of way. “How long will it take for him to get that all under control?”

Peter shrugged. “It’s impossible to say,” he said. “Though, to be honest, I’m not hopeful for a short resolution. Derek was never given any training about how to behave should he become Alpha, so he’s very much flying blind on this.”

“Should I be worried, then? He told you he can get what he wants from me without trouble.”

“If he’s foolish enough to come to you with harmful intent, I can assure you he’ll regret it, pet,” Peter said, taking a small step forward. “I will do what I can to keep you safe. He will be suspicious if he catches my scent on you, though.”

Stiles scowled. “So what, I should leave?”

“If you’d like. I’m hardly of a mind to keep you here against your will, though I would prefer if you stayed,” he said. “But the question may come up. I don’t want you caught off-guard about it.”

He watched Peter for a moment before nodding. “So, to recap, you’re gonna take up for Scott since he’s not here, and Derek’s gonna track me down to tell me that Deucalion wants to talk to me, and he’s not gonna be all that happy about it.”

“Essentially,” Peter said. “Scoot a bit to the side, would you?”

“What?”

“You wanted wings earlier, did you not?” Peter asked.

“Oh! Yeah, why?”

“My takeout menus are in that drawer,” he said, pointing to a drawer halfway obscured by Stiles’ thigh. “And while I have no objections if you’d like to leave your leg there, in a prime location to be caressed, purely accidentally of course, I expect you would not be pleased?”

Stiles flushed and moved over to the side, allowing unobstructed access to the drawer. “Good to see you haven’t abandoned the creep factor.”

Peter hummed, rifling through the menus. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, pet. Will Mel’s do, or would you prefer Taverna?”

Stiles leaned over, looking at the small pile of takeout menus in the drawer. “What’s Taverna?”

“Delicious. They have a smoked boar tenderloin that is worth every minute of the time it takes,” he said. “And their wings are quite good as well. Sold by the pound, as I recall.”

“Works for me.”

Peter nodded, handing Stiles the menu. “Figure out the flavors you want. I’ll call in and start the order,” he said.

It didn’t take long for the order to get settled, and while they waited for delivery, they retreated back to the living room.

“Hey what’s a Left Hand?”

“The opposite of your right, I gather,” Peter said with a smirk.

“Dude, come on. You know what I’m talking about.”

Peter laughed quietly. “Did you want to keep the Librarians on?”

Stiles shrugged. “It was background noise either way,” he said.

“Fair enough,” Peter said, dropping back onto the couch and smiling slightly when Stiles sat down next to him. “A Left Hand is essentially a fixer, though that depends on the Pack. In more traditional Packs, the Left would do the wetwork for their Alpha, responsible for ensuring that threats to the Pack never make it far enough to cause any harm,” he said. "And in less traditional Packs, they’re tasked with doing whatever the Alpha doesn’t want to do.”

Stiles was silent for a long moment. “So if Deucalion is a traditional dude?”

Peter hummed. “If I had been part of his Pack, my duties would have included murder for the protection of the Pack,” he said. “While he kept me, I did offer some of my services, though there were strict delineations of actions that I was unable to take, due to our differences in Pack.”

“So, what, like beating up randos?”

“Nothing that could be construed as my acting on behalf of another Alpha,” he said. “But if there was a young man who was unable to take a hint from a young lady trying to let him down easily, or someone harassing employees at a Pack-owned business?” he mused.

“Medium threats,” Stiles commented before falling silent for a long moment. “I’m guessing, based on your talk with Derek, that he’s not going the traditional route?”

Peter shook his head.

Almost hesitantly, Stiles shifted closer to Peter. “So, what, he’s going to make you Pack bitch?”

“He can try,” Peter said mildly. “But I will not bare my throat to an unworthy Alpha.”

Stiles glanced over at him, not at all reassured by his tone. “You know you’re terrifying, right?”

“It comes rather naturally, pet.” He paused, silent for a long moment. “Is your father still working extra shifts?”

“Yeah,” Stiles bit out. “He’s not happy with me either.”

“Oh?”

Stiles was silent for a long moment. “Turns out that having a restraining order filed against you and misappropriating police property is one thing, but then having Argent show up at the precinct to tell my dad that he’s considering filing restraint on me too is another.”

Peter grumbled unhappily, eyes briefly flashing blue. “And what sort of justification did he have to do that?”

“Honestly? Trespassing on his property, breaking and entering, and then threatening to report him for human trafficking, maybe attempted murder if he decides that my driving my Jeep through a wall was aimed at him,” Stiles listed off. “He didn’t get into specifics with my dad, just let him know that both me and Scott were making Allison uncomfortable, and our behavior had progressed to the point that he felt legal ramifications were the only option that would work.”

Peter outright growled at that.

Stiles shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant about the conversation. “It’s not like I can really justify what I did without having to tell my dad about werewolves and all that,” he said. “So Dad called, I tried to play it off like Argent was overreacting, and now Dad’s pissed and basically living at the station for now.” He huffed, scrubbing a hand over his head. “I was on thin ice with him before. He had to pull strings to make sure I didn’t get outright arrested after some of the shit that went down with Jackson, and this is just piling on top.”

“Are you safe with him?” Peter asked.

Stiles looked over at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“I have experienced a fair number of law enforcement who have anger issues. Is your father the type to take his out on you?”

“Fuck no,” Stiles said. “He’s never raised a hand against me.”

“Do you trust that it will stay that way?”

He nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “And I’m not telling him about werewolves.”

Peter hummed quietly. “That may be wise, at least while the Council’s investigation is ongoing,” he said. “Deucalion will ask you if he knows.”

Right, Stiles thought. He hadn’t told Peter that the Alpha had already asked.“Because he’s my dad?”

He nodded. “Partially. And also partially because he’s the Sheriff,” he said. “It’s not uncommon for stable Packs to have at least some involvement in their local law enforcement,” he said. He leaned back, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Honestly, if we manage to survive this inquiry, I wouldn’t be surprised if a few wolves were hired into the Beacon Hills force.”

Stiles looked over at him. “Would Deucalion be the one to send them?”

Peter shrugged. “He might. Depending on the outcome of the investigation, he may be willing to initiate something of a treaty by having one of his wolves transfer into the department,” he said. “Or he might know some wolves looking for a change in scenery. It’s not entirely common, but there have been wolves living in urban cities who eventually feel a call back to a more established Pack structure.”

Stiles watched him for a long moment. “You’re not just telling me out of the goodness of your heart, are you?” he asked.

“I was honest when I told you that I wanted to see you keep yourself safe. I’m not going to argue with you if you don’t want to bring your father in on things, but it’s something you need to be aware of.”

“If we survive, you mean,” Stiles prompted.

Peter nodded. “If we survive.” He paused for a moment before frowning. “You came here on foot. You didn’t walk here from the shops, did you?”

Stiles shook his head. “I parked over by the Preserve entrance,” he said, “Walked back here. Why?”

“I vaguely recall telling you that if you allowed me to return to my rest, I would reward that kindness,” Peter said, looking over at Stiles with an altogether untrustworthy smirk.

“I was kind of petting you at the time,” Stiles said, face going red. “Which, I mean, setting aside the weird factor that the werewolf likes being petted, doesn’t that count as some kind of under the influence for you? And I will reserve the right to punch you in the crotch if I don’t like your version of a reward.”

Peter laughed at that. “You’re not obligated to accept it. It’s a gift, not something I’m requiring that you take.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the older man, debating with himself the merits of taking something from him. “Alright,” he said. “Show me what you’re offering, first.”

Peter laughed again and stood up. “I’ll be right back, pet,” he said, disappearing down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

Stiles frowned to himself, not sure what to expect. He was half tempted to follow the older man, both suspicious at what Peter might come up with and curious to see what the rest of his house looked like. Instead of indulging that particular urge, he wandered over to the bookshelves, wondering how irritated the man would be if he picked one at random and started reading.

He didn’t have long to think about it.

As soon as he picked up the grimoire Peter had shown him the last time he’d come over, he felt the ghost of clawed fingers against the back of his neck and he jumped slightly. “ _Shit_ , man, what the fuck?”

Peter just laughed quietly before looking at the book he’d picked up. “That one again?”

“You never actually let me read that much of it, dude,” he said, holding the book close to his chest. “You just said that it was a good starting point.”

He nodded. “It is,” he said.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the man. “You’re up to something.”

“Often, yes.”

“Immediately?”

Peter just pulled a keyring out of his pocket. On the keyring was what looked like a house key and a grey device with a button on it. “In a manner of speaking. Your reward,” he offered.

Stiles paused. “Is that what it looks like?”

“If it looks like a set of keys for my house and the gate, then yes.”

The teenager gaped at him. “You’re giving me _keys_? Why?”

Peter watched him for a moment, and, for the briefest glance, he looked almost nervous before his expression smoothed out into one of neutrality. “I want to see that you’re kept safe, and if your father is spending more time at the station, that leaves you an empty house more often,” he said. “And I am hardly going to allow you to take that grimoire out of my house.”

Stiles stared, still shocked silent.

“There are no strings attached to this, pet. You’re welcome here whether you take the keys or not,” he said quietly.

“You’re serious about this?” he asked, setting the book back on the shelf.

“I would not have put in the effort otherwise.”

“And this is, what, because I’m your pet?”

Peter paused, frowning slightly. “Part of it is,” he said. “But you are Pack, no matter if you remain my pet or not, and I still want to make sure you have somewhere you can go that’s safe.”

Stiles frowned. “Are you saying my house isn’t safe?”

Peter was silent for a brief moment. “Your house is often empty, and your father has no knowledge of werewolves, so there may be some times when your house is not the best place for you to be. Sometimes it’s better to have a place where you can be with Pack,” he said. “I am in no way trying to force anything on you, pet. Just offer you an option.”

Stiles hesitated for just another moment before nodding and taking the keys. “Thanks, Peter,” he said, looking at the keyring for a long moment. “Seriously.”

The older man almost visibly relaxed as Stiles tucked the keys into the front pocket of his jeans. “Of course.”

“So does anyone else have a key to this place, or am I the lucky winner?”

Peter’s lips twitched into what might have been a smile. “I gave the only extra set to the member of my Pack that I trust,” he said.

“Oh,” Stiles said quietly, the weight behind that statement sinking in. “ _Oh_.” He looked over at Peter, evenly meeting the man’s eyes. “Thank you, Peter.”

He nodded, a small smile settling on his face. “Of course, Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> So somehow, I can crank out like 6k worth of fanfic, to the exclusion of all else - Enjoy :) 
> 
> And we may be seeing some more of the Pack in the next few developments, I think. As much as I enjoy the dynamics between these two, it might be interesting to toss a few others into the mix. Either way, stay tuned~


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